


baila conmigo

by hurricanekoenig



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cock Warming, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Phone Sex, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Harassment, Smoking, Smut, Teaching Assistant Reader, soft dom vibes, steve is only in it for a second lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24200974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurricanekoenig/pseuds/hurricanekoenig
Summary: You're Javier Peña's teaching assistant for an introductory government course, and neither of you are thrilled about it, but you're determined to crack through that grumpy exterior before the semester is over.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader, Javier Peña/You
Comments: 16
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr: [californiakoenig](http://www.californiakoenig.tumblr.com)

You’re reading the words wrong. You know you are. Your eyes glaze over the words etched on the page over and over, but the ink doesn’t lie. Right there, on the flimsy, tri-folded letter paper it informs that you are the teaching assistant for an introductory Government course this semester. You could get over that, you supposed. It wasn’t the course you were supposed to teach, but you were entering your last semester as a candidate for a master’s in Public Policy. It wasn’t that far off.

No, the part that perturbed you the most was the professor slated to lecture the course. Javier Peña. Who the fuck was Javier Peña? You were supposed to assist your mentor, a sociology professor who’d taught you most everything you knew. You’d spent countless hours in her office, griping about your courses, the dumb men who thought they were above you, and how you were going to achieve your hopes and dreams of changing the country’s broken systems as a public servant. She was a real-life hero, your idol and it was your mission to follow in her footsteps. She’d agreed to pull some strings so that you could TA for her in your last semester at the University of Texas. But instead, you’d been assigned to American Government with some professor you’d never heard of.

You glance at the clock on the microwave, making a note to yourself to make some time to deep clean the kitchen. Your roommates sure as hell can’t be bothered, but the grime of college students past couldn’t be ignored. You grab your backpack from its rightful spot at the foot of the door, slinging it across your shoulder as you duck out of the rundown apartment, heading for campus. You need answers, and you need them now.

There’s evidence of life on the walking paths, once deafeningly quiet and devoid of students for one of the largest universities in the country while they abandoned Austin for the winter break. As you pass the mall, you watch groups of undergraduates playing catch with a football, biking and running. It’s January, and the weather fluctuates, but today the air is warm and the sun is shining. Emblems of burnt orange are everywhere you look, and you can’t help but smile when your eyes glance up to the tower on your way to Patton Hall. Maybe if you weren’t so busy, you’d have time to truly enjoy the campus like they did, but you’d probably end up at the library after this.

Your legs carry you up the steps to the building, and with muscle memory you find yourself outside Professor Hunt’s door. You can hear the click of her typewriter, smiling to yourself. It’s Sunday, and she’s in her office like you knew she would be. You knock softly before poking your head around the door. She glances up at you through her glasses and smirks knowingly.

“Come on in, Y/N.”

You don’t have to say anything. She knows why you’re here. No point in small talk. She continues her rhythmic attack on the typewriter until she is halfway down the page. You bite the inside of your lip, willing yourself to be patient, but if that stupid paper is right then your last semester might as well be ruined in your eyes. She finally looks up and pushes her wire-rimmed glasses back up the bridge of her nose. She’s gotten a haircut over the break, so her short brown hair doesn’t curl up animatedly.

“I had no control over it. They needed a TA for the Gov course, and with the low enrollment for my course they decided to take you given your experience. My other TAs are focused in sociology. I’m sorry, I know how much you were looking forward to it,” She explains. Your shoulders slump as you realize that your fate wasn’t a mistake or a glitch in the system. It was on purpose, and no one bothered to tell you.

“This doesn’t change anything about our work on your thesis. My door is always open to you, clearly,” She scoffs, and you can’t help but smile again wistfully. You’ve been working on being more assertive and less grin-and-bear-it in your career, but this is Professor Hunt, so you can’t blame her for something out of her control. You’re just disappointed. You’d been waiting for this opportunity since you met her in undergrad.

“Do you know this guy? Javier Peña?” You ask, and she understands what you’re really asking. She nods, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips.

“I think you’ll like him. He’s rough around the edges, but he’s got a lot of good experience. You can learn a lot from him,” Hunt says, the optimism in her voice promising. You’re skeptical, but you trust her judgment. You spend the next half hour catching up with her on life outside of academics, though you both don’t have much of that, before excusing yourself to the library.

You make a beeline for the computers, flopping down into the chair and powering up the machine. You jiggle your knee impatiently as it boots up, watching the screen load while the device whirrs. Opening a browser, you navigate to the Yahoo! search engine and enter the name that’s circled through your brain for the past few hours like the ticker in Times Square. Your eyes widen as the page loads, revealing news articles written about the professor. You scan the pages, reading the words voraciously. You learn that he was a DEA agent before becoming a professor, and according to an article posted by his hometown newspaper, his stint in Colombia places him there around the same time as the height of the cocaine drug trading.

Your eyes glaze over a blurry photo that loads pixel by pixel becoming clearer and your cheeks burn. There stands a moustached man clad in a leather jacket, brown hair mussed and yellow aviators across the bridge of his nose. A lazy smirk and a nonplussed look adorns his face as he poses for the picture. He looks so undercover cop to you, but it surprises you that you don’t hate it.

You decide that you’ll go into the semester open-minded. You check your email before leaving the library, a message from Professor Peña waiting in your inbox. He informs you and three others of the textbook you’ll be using and requests a brief TA meeting in his office the day classes resume. Your anxiety heightens when you realize you’ll have to pull together your recitation without much prep, but you know you’ll be able to handle it. The first week is never too intense anyway. You purse your lips, closing out the browser window and heading back for your apartment.

You think of all the positives you can pull from this. Maybe he has an in somewhere in the government and can help you find a job. He’ll no doubt have some great stories you can’t wait to hear. It won’t be that bad, you’re sure of it.

\---

Oh it’s that bad. In fact, it might be worse.

You huff as you sit down in your seat next to the other TAs before the lecture, and of course Peña is nowhere to be found. He’s always late, strolling in with a cup of coffee from the café across the street you know he stopped to get when he didn’t have the time to. You glance at your watch as the students continue to trickle in late, though they’ll never be in trouble because so is Peña. What kind of DEA agent isn’t punctual?

One that doesn’t give a shit about this class, you remind yourself.

Javier hasn’t made much of an effort to get to know his teaching assistants. The most you ever hear him speak is when he is lecturing, which is really just reading off slides. He rarely deviates from exactly what the book details, but occasionally a student will ask a question and it lights a fire in him. He clearly knows how the American government works, and he reminds the class of how it’s supposed to work as well, which always makes you chuckle. The other TAs don’t seem to mind Peña’s disinterest, happy to have a professor that isn’t breathing down their necks as they juggle their recitation workload along with their thesis projects and an attempt at still having a life outside of school. You can’t bring yourself to see it that way.

Your eyes watch him with laser focus as he enters the lecture hall, gripping his coffee cup in one hand and holding his brown leather messenger bag steady in the other. He sets the bag and the cup down on the table at the front of the hall, rifling through his papers when he looks up and meets your glance. He’s taking tally of his assistants, but his eyes send you a question, his brow furrowing as you realize you’re glaring daggers at him. You straighten your back, sitting taller in your chair and attempting to relax your face. Sure, you don’t like him, but you don’t want him to know that.

He looks away quickly, and you take a moment to study him. He’s wearing a navy blue short sleeve button-up tucked into dark jeans and held up by a light brown leather belt. He very clearly doesn’t give a shit about a dress code, but you can’t remember if there is one for professors. You guess it’s more implied. He looks almost exactly the same as the photo you’d seen from your internet search of him, though hints of grey streaks poke through at his temples.

You don’t want to admit it, but you find him handsome. You know it’s only because he’s inaccessible to you, both in his refusal to fraternize with his teaching assistants and in the politics of a student-teacher relationship. Not that you’re his student, you think to yourself. Immediately, you brush it away, scolding yourself. You’d never been there and you weren’t going to go there, even in your head.

Your eyes are locked on him as he paces slowly across the front row of the classroom, one hand in his pocket and the other on his clicker. The professor seems like a shell of a man to you. There’s no enthusiasm, and you wonder if it’s because of this class, because he’s teaching instead of in the field or something else. You don’t know why he chose to teach at a university. There are so many things he could be doing, so why bother with this if it pains him so?

Suddenly you’re snapped out of your thoughts by the students loudly packing up their belongings and the groans of the chairs as they vacate their seats. You’ve been daydreaming the whole damn hour. You look down at your empty notebook, save for a pen etching of Javier’s face. You hurriedly pack up your things, hoping your fellow TAs didn’t notice you doodling the professor’s likeness into your notes.

“Y/N,” Javier calls as you stride across the linoleum floor of the hall. He’s still filing his papers back into his bag neatly. You stop in your tracks and meet his glance for the first time since the start of the lecture. Your heart feels like it’s in your throat.

“You know my name,” You say. It’s merely an observation. With the lack of interest he took in his TAs, you really weren’t sure he knew it. An anger stirs in you at this realization, as you think of how much happier you’d be if you were in Professor Hunt’s class instead.

He frowns, a disapproving look washing over his face as he forgets the reason he called you over in the first place. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrug, not entertaining him. He knows exactly what you mean. You ignore every single one of your instincts and decide to test out your ability for confrontation. “Were you as blasé about being in the field as you are about this class?”

His jaw clenches and he draws a breath in through his nostrils as they flare in irritation. “What’s your problem, L/N?”

“This is a waste of our time, your time and the students’ time. What are they going to get out of this course? How to read a textbook and regurgitate the definitions on an exam? I honestly can’t believe you’re the reason I’m not TA-ing for SOC 321,” You blurt out that last part unexpectedly, but in the heat of the moment the words roll off your tongue.

His lips fold into a thin line as his eyes study yours. He walks around from the table he’s been standing behind, brushing past you and dragging a desk towards you.

“Take a seat,” He barks sternly. Your heartbeat is racing as you follow his order. He leans against the table that was previously a barrier between you two, facing you and folding his arms. You’re filled with regret, and he regards you with an amusement that unsettles you.

“You’re getting your master’s in public policy, yes?” He pauses to let you confirm, but any words die in your throat so he continues. You hadn’t told him that you were, you hadn’t had the opportunity. You wondered how he knew that. “If there’s one thing you need to learn, and quickly, it’s that you will not get your way almost all of the time in this field. You’re going to get stuck doing shit you don’t want to do. They might tell you you’re doing one thing and pull the rug out from under you. There’s a million ways they can and will fuck you over. That’s how it goes. Get used to it.”

You’re speechless. You know he’s speaking from experience, and for some reason you can understand that he’s not saying it to scare you or belittle you. He wants you to know so that you’re not blindsided, so that you don’t act childish like you just demonstrated you would if he hadn’t stepped in.

He sighs. “I’m sorry you got booted from Hunt’s class. Unfortunately you got stuck with me.”

You don’t think that would be such a bad thing if he just opened up a little bit more. You understand shutting out the dumb undergrads who are just taking the class because it fulfills a requirement, but you’re his teaching assistant. You’re meant to shape the course for him, connect with your small group of students, make sure they understand what he’s teaching and cover material in more depth than he has time for in his lecture. You can’t understand why he’d keep the four of you at arm’s length when you were there specifically to help him.

You’re so fixated on his last sentence that it takes you a moment to realize he just apologized to you, even though you’re the one who insulted his teaching style and told him he was a waste of time. You open your mouth to ask him for forgiveness but he’s speaking again and it’s the most you’ve heard him say ever, so you shut up.

“I’m new to teaching,” He admits, his face serious. “And these students don’t give a damn about what I’m teaching anyway. I got stuck with this class as some sort of cruel joke. I was supposed to be working on a research project full-time. Forgive me if I’m, what word did you use, blasé?”

“I guess both of us didn’t get our way then,” You point out. “Sorry for being an asshole.”

There’s a bit of a wild look in his eyes, like he enjoyed it. “Hey, better to hear it from you now than in my review at the end of the semester.”

\---

You’re standing outside of what you think is Javier’s office, but there’s no nameplate on the door so you can’t be sure. You would check the syllabus that’s at the ready in your bag, but your hands are otherwise indisposed. You take a deep breath, walking in with purpose; with the confidence you’re fooling yourself that you have.

Javier’s words echoed and rattled around your brain for the rest of the week. You sit in the library, trying and failing to take notes on the reading for your own class this evening. You’re still floored by the exchange, replaying it and analyzing it. You were sparked with an idea when you realized exactly what about his words still nagged at you. So here you are in his office with two coffee’s from Jo’s, which you know to be superior to the sludge he brings into class every morning.

“You’re wrong, Peña,” You insist as you barge in, offering the coffee to him. He can’t hide the bewildered expression on his face, shocked that anyone at all came to his office hours, let alone you. Still unsure of what’s happening, he takes the coffee slowly and watches as you sit in the chair adjacent to his desk. There isn’t much room in the office, so you’re parallel with his desk, turning your hips so you face him. The office is dark, though light floods in through slits in the vertical blinds as the sun sets. You get the feeling he prefers it that way when you notice the desk lamp illuminating his papers despite the window just across the way.

“I’m listening,” He says apprehensively.

“There are 173 students in your American Government lecture, and maybe 159 of them truly do not give a shit about what you teach them. But there are 14 students in that class that are thinking they want to pursue a career in public service that need you to open their minds to all the possibilities. Fuck those 159, you don’t teach for them, you teach for the 14 who might change the world.”

Javier raises his eyebrows, leaning back in his chair while setting down the pen he was writing with before you came through his door. “Well you’ve got impromptu speeches down.”

You grin sheepishly. “I may have been putting it together while I waited for the coffee, which by the way, should replace that trash you buy.”

He chuckles quietly, and you can’t help but be proud of yourself. You are going to befriend this man before the semester is over, you’re sure of it. You aren’t going to let him stay grumpy and closed off. You don’t know what he went through before he started teaching at UT. You can only imagine the shit he’s seen. But you see the possibility in those flickers of passion when he answers a student’s question. You know he can be a great teacher.

You take a sip from the coffee cup, not sure what to do now. You’d focused all your energy on your little monologue. Thankfully, Javier speaks up.

“You mentioned ‘in the field’ earlier, do you know who I worked for?” He asks, his eyes soft.

You nod. “The DEA,” You whisper, like you’re not supposed to know. You’re not sure you are, actually. He nods, too. His eyes fall to a random spot on the desk, and you know his mind is somewhere else.

“You thought about who you want to work for?” He probes. He takes out a pack of cigarettes and lights one, inhaling a big drag. You watch his every action, mesmerized.

You swallow, hoping he won’t judge you or tell you it’s not possible. He wouldn’t be the first to say so. “I want to be a diplomat.”

He smiles fondly, thinking of all the times he was halted by the ambassador in Bogotá. He has to stifle his laughter as the pieces fall together for him. He brings his hand to his forehead, running his thumb along his eyebrow while he holds the cigarette between his index and middle finger. He can just see you in the role, and he knows you’re perfect for it based on the interactions you’ve had.

His laughter sets you off. “Well fuck you, Peña.”

“Y/N,” He says calmly, knowingly. “You’re exactly like an ambassador I knew, that’s all. You’ll make a great one.”

A blush rises on your cheeks, and you’re flattered he said so even if you’re still only getting acquainted. You take the opening to quiz him about his work more. “In Colombia?”

He takes another drag of the cigarette, letting it out slowly and eyeing you. “What do you know about that?”

You hunch back into the chair, suddenly feeling shy. He’s back to grumpy Peña, and you recognize that your moment is over. “Nothing, just that you were there.”

He nods. “I was.”

He doesn’t say more, and you know not to push it. You’re happy with the progress you’ve made, for now.

\---

Gradually, over the next few weeks, you notice the difference. He slips in a joke here and there in his presentations, and he knows who is paying attention based on who laughs. Every time he does this, he sneaks a peek at you and it’s understood that there’s an unspoken appreciation between the two of you. He tells a story of his own work as an agent, and you take note that at least half the class is hanging on his every word. That day, several hands shot up immediately when he finished his anecdote and you didn’t miss the smirk on his face.

He’s still a massive grouch, quick to roll his eyes when he has to answer a question about when an assignment is due for the second time or lecture straight from the book on topics he clearly doesn’t enjoy. But you find you can’t fault him for that anymore, now that you know. You’ve made a point to stop by his office hours once a week, and he’s gradually divulged some of the details of his prior profession. It’s almost comical, expecting a man to speak on the inner workings of the government when those same systems halted him from bringing an end to the Colombian drug cartels as quickly and effectively as could have.

When you should be reading for your classes, you’re replaying every moment you held his eye contact in class that week, wondering if it was more than would be normal for a professor and his TA. You get so frustrated that you publicly declare to your roommates that you will no longer be thinking of Javier Peña. They laugh you off, knowing that with the amount of times his name comes up in conversation that you’re a bold-faced liar.

That night you dream of him, and then it’s all so much worse.

Does he have a girlfriend? Or a wife? If he does, he doesn’t wear a ring. He doesn’t have to, it’s almost the new millennium after all, but he never mentions anything. His weekends seem to be filled with fishing trips, preliminary work on his research and the occasional concert or visit to his father’s place in Laredo. You’re ashamed at how much space Javier takes up in your brain. You should be focused on your thesis that you’re currently woefully blocked on. You don’t have time for this.

It’s the first really nice day of the semester, and it just so happens to be the Friday after midterms so naturally you and the other TAs decide to take a load off at happy hour on The Drag. Your mirrored aviator sunglasses rest comfortably on your nose as you expertly balance four pints in your hands, bringing them to the bench you’ve claimed. The Texas heat is like a hug on your body, the sun bathing your skin complemented by a lazy breeze. The music is loud and the laughter surrounding the bar is louder, everyone grateful for a moment of relaxation.

“Today we’re cheersing to Y/N, who tamed the beast that is Professor Peña and made all of our lives significantly easier,” Zach, your fellow TA announces. You let out a nervous giggle as your stomach drops at the mention of his name. You clink against their glasses and hope to god they don’t know just how badly you want to tame that beast, if you get the chance. You all get to talking, discussing your own midterms and how they went.

“I invited Peña, by the way,” Zach informs the group, laughing. “Who’s got 20 bucks on him showing up?”

A crisp, 20-dollar bill with its edges upturned from being kept in a wallet is slapped onto the table as your eyes land on Javier with astonishment. You want to laugh, and the sheer horror on Zach’s face when he registers Javier’s presence coupled with the awkward silence from the other TAs is priceless, so you do. Everyone else is watching their professor, frozen.

“How about another round?” Javier directs at Zach, nodding towards the money he’s put down. He scurries to the bar, and you can’t help but notice that Javier has found his place standing next to you. The music is blaring, but he leans over and makes sure you can hear him. “Why are they looking at me like I’m a ghost?”

You swallow hard, feeling the heat emanating from his body and noting that it’s the closest he’s ever been to you.

“Give them time to drink a little more, it’ll be fine,” You say, but you feel like you’re seeing a ghost yourself. From the protection of your mirrored lenses, you take in the sight of him. He’s wearing a salmon colored short sleeve button-up today, with his usual tight jeans. His chocolate brown eyes are protected by yellow-tinted aviator sunglasses that you recognize from the news article you found about him. A few of the buttons on his shirt are undone, revealing more of his chest than you’ve seen.

No one is sure what topics are on the table with Javier in earshot, so you quietly bring up how lovely the weather is and ask what everyone’s plans are for the weekend. Jessie, the other female TA, drones on about the trip she’s taking to Fredericksburg with her boyfriend when you spot Zach on his way back to the table. You’ve never been so happy to see him when he approaches with a tray of shots and beers for the group. Everyone downs theirs quickly, and finally the four of you begin to relax when Javier jokingly rips into Zach for his taste in beer. The obvious DEA questions come up, and you find you already know most of the answers and sometimes he doesn’t tell the full story. You wonder why he’s told you more, and you hope it’s because you’ve earned his trust and respect.

“You want another?” He asks you, his eyes pointing to the quarter cup left in your pint glass. You nod and smile, thanking him as he excuses himself to the bar. He brushes past you and his hand connects with the small of your back. Your heartbeat quickens at the touch. Your skin burns the print of his hand into you, tingling with the sensation of his ghost of a touch. There’s a flush on your cheeks, and you’re thankful that it’s a completely normal reaction after downing a couple drinks.

Jessie sidles up to you the moment he’s gone, eyeing you with a grin. “So what’s up with you and Peña?”

You meet her gaze and feel uneasy about the knowing look she’s giving you. You don’t think she’ll believe you anyway, but you tell her it’s nothing, just that you’ve actually made an effort to talk to him. She doesn’t press it any further, having no proof other than you are clearly the teacher's pet. She changes the subject to the impending job search and where you both are looking to relocate.

When Javier returns, he sits on the other side of the table, sliding your drink over to you and settling into conversation with the boys. You don’t talk to him again, but you can’t keep your eyes from returning to him, making sure he’s still there and not a figment of your imagination. It’s almost a game. You lock your gaze on him, and when he meets your eyes you look away as quickly as you can. Then you feel his eyes on you, and as soon as you allow yourself to take in the sight of him, his glance is directed at something else. The cycle repeats, and the thrill doesn’t subside. By now, the other TAs are too buzzed to notice. Their friends and significant others have joined your group, and the conversations have turned to what bar will be next. You don’t hear any of it. You’re stuck in the amber pools of Javier Peña.

The members of the group start to peel away, and the sun is going down. The string lights on the bar’s patio glow and the sky is fading into a gradient of pink and orange. The air smells alive and it’s rousing the two of you into a state of ambiguity that excites you. This is much different than his office.

“You heading to another bar?” Javier asks, lighting up a cigarette.

You feel like maybe you should be, but you’re not one for that scene. You only came out tonight for a change of pace from your usual night in with pizza, wine and a good book. You tell him as much and he appreciates the honesty. He itches at the skin of his jawline. The music is still playing but without the others there talking, he doesn’t have to shout.

“I’ve never felt so old,” He muses as he looks around at the noticeably younger crowd of students at the bar. You laugh, observing the patrons yourself. You can imagine that this isn’t exactly his cup of tea either.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” You venture, needing something to soak up your drunkenness before you can make the trek home. He accepts and the obvious answer is tacos. There’s a joint down the street that you suggest, but he shakes his head.

“You might have the best coffee spots down, but I know tacos. I grew up on the border, for Christ’s sake,” He says as you fall into step with him. You find yourself at a hole in the wall you’ve never noticed before, and the staff know him by name. He orders in Spanish and doesn’t ask for your input, and you have to admit you like the confidence. You slide into a small booth and raise your eyebrows at him.

“Hope you’re not picky,” He smirks.

“I’m deathly allergic to avocados, so I hope you don’t kill me,” You retort. The color drains from his face and you release your laughter when you decide he’s suffered enough. “I’m just fucking with you.”

He shakes his head and smiles, sure that you’ll be the end of him. The food arrives quickly and he’s right, he does know tacos. It’s not hard to find a great taco in Austin, but these are the best you’ve tasted in recent memory. You savor each bite, your taste buds heightened due to your slight inebriation.

Your time together passes quicker than you would like. After you wolf down your food, you walk back in the direction of campus with him and you’re conscious of the dividers in your head, notating the space between school and personal life, professor and teaching assistant. You wonder if he finds this as weird as you do.

“I can give you a ride,” He offers. You’re standing in front of a campus parking lot you assume he’s parked in. It’s not too late in the night to walk home by yourself, and you were looking forward to the alone time to process this whole evening.

“Thank you, but I’m fine walking. It’s not too far from here,” You say. You don’t want to know what it’s like to ride in his passenger seat, for him to see you home safely. It feels too intimate. You want to maintain your distance.

He narrows his eyes at your refusal. “Y/N, it wasn’t a question.”

His voice is stern and a bit gruff. It ignites a fire inside you as you stare at him, wide-eyed. You’re surprised with this protectiveness, but you don’t mind it. You really don’t.

“O-okay,” You sputter, and he nods, turning on his heel and heading in the direction of his car. You follow him to a beat up Honda Civic, sinking down into the passenger seat as he does the same on the driver’s side. The car smells like cigarette smoke and a hint of sandalwood. It’s not messy, but evidence of his lack of organization is apparent in the papers and a suit jacket strewn about in the backseat. He turns the key in the ignition, turning his gaze to you. You like that he’s in control. You tell yourself that you mean the car, but you know on a deeper level he has a hold on you, too.

“Where am I going?” He asks.

You clear your throat, shaking yourself out of it to tell him the directions. The radio volume is soft, but you make out the Tejano music easily. It’s a Selena song you know. You smile, tapping your finger on your thigh. He pulls up to your apartment building, finding a spot to pull over in and shifting the car into park. You send him a questioning look, and he’s studying you.

“I guess it would be inappropriate to kiss you goodnight.” His voice is low, sending a shiver through your body that rolls from your core to your temples.

“It would,” You agree, very clearly disagreeing with his sentiment. You let your eyes fall to his lips, parted slightly. You’re nervous, but his rapid eye movements tell you he is too. You’re too shy to move any closer, your body frozen in place. You know it’s wrong, but you’ve been thinking about exactly this for months. You don’t have the discipline to stop yourself.

Finally, Javier leans over and cups your face in his hand. He brushes his thumb over your cheek and sets the same fire to your skin as when he touched the small of your back. His caress is your undoing, the permission you need to meet him in the middle. Your faces are inches apart now. You feel his hot breath on your lips and you can’t wait any longer to taste him. He pulls you in gently with his hand, closing the gap as he places his lips on yours. His moustache brushes against your skin and you smile into the feeling, soaking it in. You break contact for a fraction of a second, attaching to him again as your hands explore his chest. You know just a kiss isn’t enough. You want all of him.

He stops you, pulling back only a few inches. You’re lost in his deep brown eyes, a gentle care radiating from them. He lets out a deep breath, running his thumb along your bottom lip slowly. You’re both processing what this means, but you don’t need to talk about that now.

“Thanks for the tacos, Javier,” You say, and you realize it’s the first time you’ve said his first name out loud. He’s electrified by that same revelation and he smiles. Do you dare remind him of the illicit nature of what you’ve just done?

Oh you dare.

“See you in class,” You throw him a smug smile before exiting the car and walking up to your apartment, making sure you’re out of his sight before you brush your fingertips over your lips again to check if that really did just happen.


	2. softly

The colors adorning the cover of the book you’re currently zoned out on swirl together as you allow your eyes to fall out of focus. You can recognize that there’s a voice speaking, still speaking on its tangent that started what must have been ages ago, but you don’t hear a single word. You curse at yourself for not going to sleep earlier the night before. Why is it so hard for you to concentrate?

That’s a dumb question. You know why. You shake yourself out of it as your eyes slowly fall back into focus. It’s Zach that’s droning on about the topic at hand as you sit with your fellow teaching assistants in Javier’s office. Zach is standing next to the professor’s desk, waving his hands wildly as if he’s the one lecturing. You’re trying desperately not to, but you can’t help but sneak a peek at Javi. You attempt to hold back your giggle when you see the deadpan look he’s directing at Zach, who doesn’t even notice, too high on his horse to read the room. You realize you’re staring at Javier before he does, but you still hope that he felt the burn of your gaze.

You’re sitting in the same chair you always do, and you’re reminded of the first time you set foot in this stuffy office armed with a reckless confidence and fairytale hopefulness. Now you’re riddled with nerves to be sitting here, your mind screaming at you that you’ve kissed this man and you definitely were not supposed to. This is the first time that you’ve seen him since that night and your hands are shaking with the thrill of being in the same room.

In just one damn weekend, you’ve dug yourself in a much deeper hole than you anticipated. You scold yourself, trying to make sense of what Zach’s saying. He’s bragging about a group activity he came up with for his recitation that got great reactions from his students.You try your hardest not to roll your eyes, but this guy just rubs you the wrong way and you’d much rather stare at Javier instead.

You shift in the chair you’d become acquainted with in his office, all the hours you’d spent discussing life, work and studies. Zach is finally done speaking, and with a raised eyebrow Javier offers a sarcastic thank you to him. He says something half-assed encouraging you all to test out your potential teaching style and activities on the students as Zach has, and you wonder if the other TAs can pick up on his disdain.

He dismisses all four of you, and the other three rush out of the room to their next engagement. You take a little longer, stuck due to the chair’s proximity to the door. Javier clears his throat and you look up at him as you grab your backpack.

“You coming to my office hours today?” He asks, a smug smirk on his face. Your heart nearly stops, but you manage to raise an eyebrow at his words. You stand up, shrugging your bag onto your shoulders.

“We’ll see,” You answer, sounding much more confident than you really are. You try to relax your racing heartbeat as you walk the hallways of the building, rushing down the stairs and out into the fresh campus air. Any hope for getting work done today is squashed as your brain is now converted into a countdown clock to Javi’s office hours. There’s no way in hell that you won’t be there.

\---

You look at the clock hanging high on the library wall for the umpteenth time. The long hand is inching forward, announcing that it’s finally 4:30. There’s half an hour left on Javi’s office hours and you’re still sitting here debating with yourself if it’s a good idea. Maybe nothing will happen and you’ll just talk like you normally do, but something tells you that’s not how it’ll play out. There’s the possibility that he’ll let you off the hook and agree that this is all a terrible idea. You’re bound to get caught, so you should just leave it alone. Based on the look he gave you when he asked if you were coming, you don’t think that’s how it’s going to go either.

You’ve always been a pretty by-the-book person. You follow the rules, put your head down and get your work done. You always try to do the right thing, which is why you discouraged yourself from even thinking about Javier in this way any deeper than the surface-level acknowledgement that he’s a very attractive man, and it’s nice to look at him while he gives smart lectures on topics that you give a shit about.

But something more is there between you, in the way you both steal those longing looks at each other in class if just for a moment. It’s in the gentle way he looks at you at your TA meetings, the way your hands brush when you hand him papers. The way he listens to your every word as you speak like you’re the smartest person he’s ever met, and how he seems to smile and laugh more when you’re around. You can’t help but notice he’s different with you, and judging by Jessie’s question at happy hour, the other TAs have too.

You love being around him. You can’t get enough of the excitement, the easiness of the conversations, and you’re curious to know what happens next. So, just like you knew you would, you slip your books back into your backpack and head out of the library and in the direction of Javier’s office. The butterflies are rampant in your stomach as you walk up the steps when you reach the building. You don’t even remember going up the stairs, but suddenly you are standing in front of the dark wood of the door.

You knock softly on the door and wait, hearing the groan of his chair as he shifts his weight. Your heart drops when you hear his voice ushering his visitor in, and you realize you’re done for when just the sound of his tenor sets your skin aflame. His brow is furrowed as you lay your eyes on him, but his expression softens as soon as he realizes that it’s you.

“Hey stranger,” He says with a quiet gentleness and there’s an element of uncertainty in his gaze.

“Hi,” You say, matching his delicate tone. You take a seat in the chair, setting your backpack down beside you. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, settling for your hands clasped in your lap instead.

“Thought you might not make it,” He says and you meet his gaze, shrugging.

“I made time in my schedule for you,” You smirk. “How about that soliloquy from Zach today?”

His hand flies to his face as he covers it in anguish. “God, that kid is obnoxious.”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. You breathe in, allowing the familiar aroma of cigarette smoke, old paper and the must of the building to settle you a bit. He’s dressed up today, in a crisp, white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a tie that he’s loosened. His navy suit jacket is draped across the back of his office chair. Seeing him like this only adds to the attraction you feel burning deep inside you, and you inadvertently squeeze your thighs together.

“How’s your thesis coming along?” He asks as he leans back in his chair, looking very relaxed. He knows that you’ve been stuck lately, and there’s a look of genuine interest on his face.

You sigh as the thought of your paper brings you down a bit. “I talked to Professor Hunt about it last week and got pretty much nowhere. She’s got a lot going on right now, especially with her sociology experiment.”

You don’t mean to remind him that he’s the reason your relationship with your mentor has suffered, but the lack of time you have with her has had a clear effect on your connection. She’d tried her best to be helpful, and some things she’d said were good ideas you made a note of. But you still felt lost in the process, unsure of where you were going next and if your argument was even strong enough to hold up.

While you are disheartened by it, there’s also an unsettling thought crossing your mind that you never anticipated. She’s not Javier, and you can’t help but wonder what he would say about your dilemma, with his alternative ways of thinking and tangible experience in the public sector. You value his opinion just as much.

“Do you have a draft with you? I can take a look at it, if you want,” He says. His eyes are soft, trying to tread lightly.

You smile warmly at him. “That would be awesome, honestly.” You reach for your bag, unzipping the pocket and handing him your latest draft. The exchange of papers from you to him is gentle, and you share a look. He sets it down on the desk and returns to his relaxed position.

There’s a sudden rapping at the window and you look over only to see fat raindrops soaring down to the ground. It’s pouring and it isn’t long before you hear the thunder rolling through. Storms in Texas are no joke, and this one is not an exception.

“That’s fucking perfect,” You say. “Can’t wait to walk home in that.”

His forehead creases and you notice the wrinkles in between his eyebrows. “Why don’t you just stay here for a bit until it blows over? I’ve got nowhere to be.”

You gulp at the suggestion. This certainly feels ambiguous and you haven’t addressed the exchange you had last Friday. You’re not sure how to bring it up.

“I have some assignments I can grade. My roommates are throwing a party tonight, so it’s much easier to do here,” You reason aloud.

“It’s settled then.” He smirks at you. He turns his chair and opens a piece of furniture to the right of him, tucked back in the corner of the office. The pop of the door as he opens it is a familiar sound and you watch as he takes out two cold beers. The man has a mini-fridge of alcohol in his office, and it’s just so Javier that you can’t hold back your laugh. You both open the cans, and he raises his to you before taking a long sip.

“You’re ridiculous,” You say before washing the liquid down.

“In a good way?” He asks, his expression curious.

“The best way,” You reply. You pull out the papers you need to grade and settle into the chair with your knees acting as a table. You get to work and he leaves you to it, working on something of his own. At first, you’re able to ignore the fact that he’s sitting right next you and you’re alone. The sounds of the storm lull you and you can focus on the papers in front of you, but when you finish you allow yourself to look up at him and watch as he’s reading. It takes him a bit, but he eventually feels your eyes on him and looks up. When your eyes meet, everything stops. You’re looking at his lips, remembering how they felt.

His face twists into a serious look as he pushes himself up from the chair, sauntering around the desk. You watch as he grips the doorknob of the small office, shutting it and gingerly turning the lock. The noise rings out ten times louder, reverberating in your ears. You gulp, your heart rate jumping even faster. You can hear the blood rushing in your head, ringing at a deafening decibel and causing you to feel weightless, like you’re floating.

He steps in front of you, and you look up to meet his gaze, still seated in the chair. He reaches his hand out, palming your cheek before taking it away, asking for your hand in his. You oblige and he pulls you up from the chair, closer to him, though your only point of contact remains your hands. You’re in disbelief that this is happening, here in his office. When you take his hand, he guides you into the dream you’re sharing at this moment in time.

The feeling of his body heat against you is so tempting as he lowers his head into your personal space, but red alerts are going off in your brain trying to stop you. “We shouldn’t…” Your voice trails off.

His voice is husky when he says, “That’s part of the fun, don’t you think?”

Javier’s hands find their way to your hips, gripping you tightly. The breath catches in your throat as he turns you and leans you against his desk in one swift motion. Your body weight pushes into the edge of the wood and you enjoy the feeling of it, keeping you grounded. He pauses to look into your eyes, searching them like he’s trying to memorize what’s looking back at him. Slowly, he places his lips on yours and it’s as though you’re picking up exactly where you left off that night in his car.

Your hands are drawn to his chest like magnets, feeling the cool fabric of his dress shirt on your fingertips. You tug on his tie, drawing him closer. You just want him closer. You moan a little as you realize this and he pulls away, breathing heavily and drinking in the sight of you. You take the opportunity to loosen his tie, making quick work of it and throwing it on the desk behind you.

At an agonizing pace, he slides his warm hands under your shirt, lifting the fabric up as it catches on his thumbs. His movements are slow, savoring you. You watch him intensely, but his eyes don’t leave your midriff, traveling up the same trajectory as the hem of your shirt until finally, he helps you out of it, tossing it aside. Your bra is nothing special and you blush as his eyes run over your exposed body. His index finger connects with your chin, tilting your head up to look into his deep, brown eyes. “You’re beautiful,” He says.

You reluctantly let go of him, unclasping your bra and throwing it on the floor as he did with your shirt, a fiery desire in your eyes. He lets out a sigh as he reconnects with your lips, cupping your breasts. His hands are big and strong as he massages you and you arch your back into his touch. Your skin is tinder, his hands the flame. He traces along your curves, finding your hips again and tugging at the waistband of your pants. You take his cue, unbuttoning your jeans and eagerly pulling them off as you’re more than ready for him. That sweet, sensuous smirk is a permanent fixture on his face as he lifts you so you’re sitting on the desk and he pushes your knees apart, opening a space for himself as he steps into you. It used to bother you that he kept next to nothing on it, but in this moment you love the feel of the smooth, flat wood against your ass.

Your hands tangle into his hair as his mouth trails down your neck, his moustache tickling you. You let out a giggle and he chuckles in response, giving you a nip. “We have to be quiet,” He says against your skin and his hot breath causes goosebumps to rise all over your body. “Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

It’s the preamble to your pleasure, and he waits to hear your confirmation before he can give you what you want - what you need. You nod enthusiastically, scraping your teeth along your bottom lip. “Yes, Javi.”

“That’s a good girl.” His voice is low, and you swear you can see stars on the old, leaky ceiling tiles. His tongue swirls a line down the center of your chest, tracing languid circles around your nipples. You sigh into the feeling, a smile crossing your lips as you watch him continue lower down your abdomen until he’s kneeling on the floor. He hooks your legs over his shoulders, reaching for your bottom and pulling you closer forcefully.

He presses gentle kisses along your inner thighs, approaching your throbbing pussy and your heart is beating erratically. His mouth ghosts over your folds and you huff impatiently, tantalized. “Please, Javier.”

“You have to be quiet, baby,” He reminds you and you bite down on your bottom lip, harder this time in hopes that you’ll be able to hold back. Finally, his tongue slides along your sex and you let out a quiet noise from the back of your throat while his mouth works adeptly. You lean back into the feeling as he grips your thighs tighter in his thick hands. He alternates between sucking and flicking your clit and your breath hitches at the pangs of pleasure mounting. You grab a fistful of his hair in your hand and pull, prompting him to moan in response.

A whimper escapes your lips as he gets you closer to the precipice, and he works faster when he hears you. His fingers dig deeper into your thighs and the tinge of pain as his tongue moves expertly induces your climax, the wave of pleasure rolling through you. He stands up slowly, wiping at his mouth as he watches you come back down, your breathing ragged and chest heaving.

“Javi, that was…” You search for the words, but your brain is lagging as you try to make sense of it all. He’s smirking at you again, his stare covetous. He leans forward, resting his hands on the desk and trapping you between his arms. He captures your lips in a hungry kiss before he reaches behind you, pushing aside the papers and pens with vigor.

“Turn around and bend over,” He commands fervently. Though his voice is quiet, his words are loud. Before you can even process it, you’re pressing your skin into the cool wood of the desk, your palms flat against the surface. You’ve seen this exact moment play out in your head so many times that you’re not sure it’s even real. You bite back your grin when you hear the jingle of his belt, waiting patiently.

He admires you as he unbuckles his belt, ridding himself of his pants. You jump a little in excitement as his hands slide down your back, his left hand resting on the fold of your hip and his right guiding his length along your dripping pussy. He doesn’t wait long before he pushes into you and you let out a gasp as you stretch to accommodate him, feeling so deliciously gratified to have him inside you. You’re both overtaken by the sensation as the moment unravels. It’s about being quick now, getting what you need from each other and hoping no one walking these halls hears you.

“That’s it,” He says as he begins to rock against your hips, gripping your hip tighter. “You’re so tight for me, baby.”

You want to moan his name to let him know that he’s responsible for the ecstasy that’s pulsing through your body. It’s all you can focus on as he fills you but you bite down harder on your lip to suppress it. His pace picks up and you’re both sweating, slipping against the desk. He’s letting out soft little grunts that are driving you wild. You’re desperate to touch him, scratch your nails into his back but instead you paw at the desk. You squirm impatiently and he grants your wish, wrapping his arm around your belly and pulling you up so you’re flush against him. You grip onto the edge of the desk with one hand, keeping yourself steady as your other hand reaches behind to cup his cheek.

You let out a surprised huff as his fingers settle on your clit. His touch is euphoric, guiding you into a deeper state of pleasure as he continues to thrust into you. “Yes, Javi,” You whisper against his ear. They’re the only words you can think of at the moment.

“Such a good girl,” He says, trailing his teeth on your jaw. “So smart and goddamn gorgeous.”

His pace quickens as his need aches intensely, his face twisting in concentration. You’re on the edge, his finger swirling your clit as his cock hits just the right spot, releasing you into your bliss as your vision blurs. You shudder into him, the softest of cries escaping your lips and he follows close behind, grunting as he finishes with a few last lazy thrusts.

You clutch at the desk while your breathing returns to normal. He rests his head against yours, placing soft kisses along your cheek and jawline. You finally untangle from each other, haphazardly putting the pieces back together. He hands you your shirt once you’ve gotten your bra and jeans back on, having retrieved it from the corner of the office where he threw it.

You’re looking up at Javier in wonder, knowing that there is really no coming back from this. You can’t ignore your connection anymore. He reaches down and holds your face in his hand, running his thumb along your cheekbone.

“Well I hope the extra credit I’m putting in gets me a good grade.” You grin, your confidence reinvigorated. He narrows his eyes at you, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

“Just make sure you don’t miss my office hours,” He admonishes, playing along as he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you in for a goodbye kiss. He follows it with a swat at your ass as you unlock the door and make your exit.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” You murmur.

\---

Once you and Javier finally connect, it’s like life is easy again. You feel an optimism you didn’t realize you were missing, and it reminds you how excited you are to finish your master’s. You settle back into your routine, making decent headway on your work while adding in some office hours with Javi here and there.

It’s a Saturday afternoon in March, and Austin is in the sweet spot of spring when it doesn't cross the threshold of too hot to function. It’s a temperature you’re headed for very soon, but not quite yet. You’re laying on a blanket in the lush greenery of Zilker Park, underneath a tree that Javier’s picked for you both to relax underneath.

You don’t spend a ton of time with him outside of class and his office hours, so today is special. There’s an understanding between you two that this is to remain casual, and though you’ve ignored every warning you’ve given yourself by getting involved with him, you are absolutely sure that this all will be short lived and there will be no real feelings involved. At least that’s what you tell yourself.

When you hang out with him, the time feels like it could last forever and you wouldn’t mind, though hours always seem to go by slower when he’s not with you. You have fun together and it’s a welcome change of pace from the rigor of academia.

You’re cuddled against him, an extra blanket acting as a pillow for your neck as you annotate an article you’re going to use in your paper. He has a book in front of him, reading the words intently behind the yellow aviators you’ve grown accustomed to. You give him shit for still wearing jeans despite the rising temperatures, but he only smirks and ignores you.

You huff, suddenly bored of reading and you dramatically set your papers down in the grass next to you. You see him looking at you from the corner of his eye and finally he puts down his book, deciding to entertain you. He shifts onto his side, resting his head on his hand as he studies you.

“What do you want?” He asks pointedly, though there’s a hint of amusement in his tone.

You look up at him and shrug. He’s leaning towards you, hovering over your face from his vantage point above. His hand travels to the edge of your skirt, softly stroking the skin of your thigh and it sends you reeling.

“I want to know what you’re thinking about, always,” You whisper, bringing your hand up to his cheek. He leans into your touch, turning to kiss your palm.

“Other than my book that you so rudely interrupted,” He says as he pinches your thigh. “I’m not really thinking about anything. I’m…calm,” He admits, and you’re satisfied with his answer. He chuckles in disbelief and you furrow your brow, waiting for an explanation. “Your bossy ass makes me calm.”

You giggle too. “Well your grumpy face makes me happy.”

You’re both laughing as he lowers down to kiss you before biting at your neck and making you laugh even more. It’s blissful, the feeling of him this close to you as his laughter rings out. You know this won’t last forever, but you’re going to soak up as much of him as you can while he’s yours. The whole world could be crashing down around you, but when you’re with him there is nothing else. You’re both quiet as you study each other, the sounds of the trees swaying in the wind and the distant voices of others in the park serving as your soundtrack.

Javier’s hand slips under your skirt, grazing the skin of your inner thigh as he travels higher. You shiver at his touch, looking up at him with your eyes wide. He’s giving you a mischievous smirk and you’re in disbelief that he would be so bold. At least in his office, no one can see you even if they might hear you. There’s no hiding here in the park.

“Javi, what the fuck-” You start, your eyes darting around wondering if anyone is close enough to discern what he’s doing. It’s a big park, and the spot you’re occupying is empty except for the two of you, but there’s no guarantee someone isn’t going to find you. He shushes you, his hand moving closer to the waistband of your underwear.

“You’re so beautiful,” He mumbles, brushing his lips along your jawline as his fingers slide the length of your folds. “You’re mine and I don’t care who knows.” Your clit is throbbing for him as he teases you and you don’t give a fuck who sees you anymore.

“I’m yours,” You agree breathily as he encircles the bundle of nerves and you close your eyes, gripping his arm tightly. Your fingernails dig into his skin when he dips two fingers inside you, pumping rhythmically. He works you like this for a bit until his thumb presses on your clit and he adds another finger, watching your mouth part in ecstasy.

“That’s it, baby,” He says. Your heart stops every time he calls you that. He increases the pressure and pace on your clit and you’re so close. Your walls contract around him as you stifle your groan of pleasure. Your orgasm washes over you and you look up at him through hooded eyes, met with his signature smirk.

“You’re an asshole,” You mutter between breaths.

He chuckles, bringing his fingers to his lips to taste you. “Is that your way of saying thank you?”

A silence envelops you and you notice that the sun is beginning to set, bathing the trees in a golden light. You’ve been at the park for a few hours now, and you don’t want to go home. You want more of him. You always want more of him.

“Do you want to come over for dinner?” He offers.

Your eyes light up as you bite down on your bottom lip and smile. You’ve never been to his place. “You can cook? Oh, I’d like to see that.”

He scoffs as he gets up from the ground, holding his hand out for you to follow. He dusts himself off and then does the same for you, his hand brushing against the fabric of your skirt covering your ass. You can’t help the blush that rises on your cheeks at his touch, despite what he just did to you in a public park.

“You can walk home,” He barks in response to your quip. You roll your eyes at him, feigning hurt as you follow him through the expanse of the park and back to his car.

When you’re with him, you feel protected from everything bad in the world though there’s still a hint of danger that seeps in through your clandestine activities. You don’t dance around it. He’s not afraid to ask you about class, or joke about something one of the undergrads said. You openly discuss your thesis work with him, in fact he likes to make sure you’re on track even if he’s usually the reason you’re dragged away from working on it.

You both know that this isn’t anything real. It’s just a fantasy you’re allowing yourselves to live in until you can’t anymore. You have to drill this into your head as you drink wine and he drinks whiskey in his South Austin home while he grills a steak dinner. A part of you wishes it wasn’t so easy to spend time with him.

“What are you thinking about, baby?” He asks, flipping the question back on you from this afternoon. You’re lying in his bed, coming down from the first round of sex for the night. He’s finishing off a cigarette, sitting up slightly.

“You haven’t given much detail about the work you did in Colombia,” You note. It wasn’t what you were thinking about, but you’re curious if he’ll open up. He’s told you about everything else: training at the academy, helping bust low-level operations stateside prior to his assignment in South America, and even a few stories about his partner while he was there. Your favorite is about the man’s cat going missing when he first arrived in Bogotá.

But every time it gets to what actually went down, his wall comes back up. You just want to know what happened to him down there. You want to understand, and in a way you want to prepare yourself for what you might be getting yourself into in the future.

He lets out a puff of smoke, angling it away from you. “There’s not much to say.”

You scoff. “No, nevermind that you were an instrumental part of taking down massive drug cartels. Not much at all.”

He puts the cigarette out on the ashtray on his nightstand, turning to face you. You’re taken aback by the way he’s looking at you, worry creasing his forehead. “I’m not the hero you think I am. I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of, things I don’t want you to do if you’re ever in a similar situation. You… You have so much potential and I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

Your heart sinks as you stare into his dark, brown eyes. The sadness you’ve always known was there is on display in earnest, eating away at him. He’s showing it to you, letting you witness it. This is the space where you’re allowed to know him, and when you’re in class next week it will all be forgotten.

You kiss his nose softly, hoping the words you’re about to say don’t come across ignorant. “I know that you made the decisions you thought were right, and no one should blame you for that. There isn’t much I can say, and I won’t ask you about it anymore, but I’m here, Javi.”

He nods, his head dropping onto your chest as he breathes in the scent of your skin deeply. You brush your fingers through his hair, staring at the ceiling. You can’t help but wonder if Javier is ever going to forgive himself for whatever happened and start living his life uninhibited. You realize that this is something you desperately want for him, so much so that your heart hurts when you think about it. If there’s anything you’re absolutely sure of, it’s that Javier Peña deserves to be happy. What that looks like though, you’re not sure you’ll ever find out.


	3. farsighted

It’s the second to last week of April, meaning the end of the semester is rapidly approaching and any given day of the week you might have your life together or you might be a complete mess. The stress and anxiety of your impending thesis due date results in those calm moments existing few and far between, but today feels different. It’s one of those rare days where everything is just a little bit more. The sun shines brighter; your emotions hit your soul just a little deeper. It’s the kind of day you wait for as the memory of the most recent occurrence reminds you that it’s possible to feel this way.

For once, you wake up feeling well rested after making significant progress on your paper the night before. Your hair falls just right when it dries from your morning shower, and you’ve chosen to wear a sundress that makes you feel confident and sexy. You have time to stop for an iced coffee at your favorite place before your slate of lectures, and the weather in Austin is quite honestly perfect - warm and sunny, but not humid.

You watch all the characters out and about, a bout of pride filling you as you witness how alive this city is, and you’re part of it. You’re not sure where you’ll end up after graduation, but if isn’t here you know that you’ll miss it terribly.

Your lectures go by quickly until you’re crossing campus to a building you’ve spent most of your time in this semester. Despite all the pressure you’ve felt the past few months, pockets of serenity and bliss have occurred in this building and walking in allows the feeling to settle over you immediately. He’s here and just the thought brings a smile to your face. You think back to the day just before the beginning of the semester when you marched into Professor Hunt’s office, sure that your final few months of college were ruined. How wrong you’d been.

You greet the other TAs as you take your usual seat for Javier’s lecture, making pleasant conversation with them about end-of-semester woes as you wait for the professor to arrive. Jessie excitedly tells you about a job interview she has at the Pentagon next week. You’re so enthralled by the details that you haven’t noticed Javi walk into the lecture hall, but when you do your heart stops for a brief moment. He looks good, he always does, but in your elevated mood your thirst for him is just a little bit stronger. He’s in a light yellow short-sleeved button-up shirt, fitting for the temperature outside and accentuating his tanned skin. As you run your eyes over him, he looks up and catches you, a soft smile playing at his lips as he looks away and searches in his bag for something.

You lean over to reach your backpack on the floor, taking out your notebook and pen. When you straighten, your eyes meet Javier’s and you realize that he’s watching you. You both have done a pretty good job of hiding your relationship from others, but as the blush warms your cheeks you decide that you’re willing to push the limits today.

He’s lecturing about policymaking today, one of the last topics on the syllabus, and you feign busy with taking some notes. He pauses to ask a question of the undergrads and you bring your pen to your lips, softly chewing on the cap as you look over what you’ve written. You can feel a pair of eyes on you, and your suspicion is confirmed when you look up and meet Javier’s deep brown orbs already on you. You grin, narrowing your eyes at him with the pen still in your mouth.

He folds his arms and leans against the table at the front of the lecture hall, dragging his thumb across his bottom lip as he listens to the student answering his question. He knows how it drives you wild, you’ve told him as much while working together in private. He wasn’t aware he did it until you pointed it out to him.

You huff quietly, crossing your legs and allowing the skirt of your dress to rise slightly and expose more of your thigh. His eyes fall to your legs and he quickly averts his gaze back to the nearly full lecture hall. There’s a bit of an awkward pause as he tries to remember his train of thought and your smile is smug.

The two of you continue the game throughout the rest of the lecture, small actions that the unfamiliar eye wouldn’t recognize but are unmistakable acts of teasing to you and Javier. Somehow you make it through the hour, and you slowly put your things away as you wait for the room to empty.

“Y/N, can I speak to you in my office?” Javier’s voice rings out and your eyes shoot up to his, maneuvering up and out of the desk.

“Of course, Professor,” You smile, a jolt of electricity running through you in anticipation. You wait for him to finish returning his papers to his bag before following him to his office, just one floor up and through a fluorescent-lit hallway, a path you’re all too familiar with. You wait patiently behind him as he fishes the keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door, allowing you in and immediately closing the door and locking it in one swift motion once you’re inside.

“You’re such a goddamn tease, you know that?” He says with amusement, throwing his bag on the floor and sitting in his big, leather office chair as he allows his shoulders to relax. He lets out a deep breath, as if releasing the pressure that weighed on him throughout the hour. You stand there, waiting for him to take control of you as your core tingles in wait.

“I could say the same for you,” You give back to him, your tone biting.

He’s running his eyes up the length of your body and you can’t help but feel exposed under his intense stare. “What am I going to do with you?” He asks, his voice sounding far away, strained. His legs are splayed and he’s leaning back in the chair, his elbow on the armrest with his hand cradling his face and it’s just so inviting.

“Baby you can do anything you want with me,” You say as you approach him, slipping off your sandals and crawling into his lap. He smirks, his eyes trained on your face as you hook your legs through the arms of the chair. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and he grabs hold of your backside, pulling you against him tightly. Your choice to wear a short sundress works in your favor as Javier slides his thick hands up your thighs with ease. Goosebumps rise on your skin at his touch, the heat from his caress spreading higher. You shift against him, the friction from your underwear against his jeans igniting a warmth that goes beyond the physical touch.

You grind your hips against him deliberately and he presses harder against the skin of your thighs, letting out a quiet grunt as he grows more uncomfortable in his pants. You reach down to feel him through the thick fabric, lowering your lips to his and savoring the taste. Javier’s lips curl into a smile against you as he palms you through your underwear, exciting your senses further and you bite down on his bottom lip in response.

“You said I can do anything I want with you,” He breathes after he pulls away from your kiss. You nod in confirmation, humming in agreement while closing your eyes as you continue to grind against his thigh. Your lips fall open as you give yourself over to the feeling rising in your core.

“I want to fill you up,” He whispers, watching the divine expression on your face as you begin to unravel before his eyes. You hear his belt unbuckle and he releases himself before tugging on your underwear. He grunts as the flimsy lace fabric doesn’t give him the access he wants and he pulls harder, ripping them off aggressively and you gasp, your hips stinging from the impact.

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” He mumbles into your neck as he nips and licks at you, his cock teasing your folds, dipping into your wetness. He lines himself up with you, slowly guiding your hips as you sink down into him. You let out a groan as he delivers on his promise, your walls stretching around his length. His head is resting against your chest and he can feel how fast your heart is beating as you hold on to the back of his neck, supporting yourself.

You begin to slide upwards to come down on him and he stills you with his grip. “No.”

Your eyes snap open as his words register and he pulls away to look at you, to watch your reaction as you realize what he’s asking of you. How in the world can he just sit there? You feel him throbbing inside of you, and his breathing is shallow but the rest of his body is still. You’re so warm that you think your skin might actually be on fire and you have no control over your twitching. A whimper of his name rolls past your lips and he reaches his hand up, sliding his index and middle finger into your mouth. You slide your tongue in between his digits eagerly and he watches you with a smoldering stare.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” He says. “In this short little dress, teasing me all fucking lecture.”

You know you have to be quiet. It’s the middle of the day, and this building is crawling with people, but you have to let it out. If he isn’t going to let you ride him, he has to let you speak. You open your mouth wider and he takes his fingers away as they find their way to your clit, stimulating you at an agonizingly slow pace.

“Javi, please,” You beg.

He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear as he gives you an innocent look. “Please what?”

Your voice catches in your throat as he adjusts himself the tiniest bit inside you. “Javi, please let me fuck you.”

He smirks as he appears to ponder your request. You both freeze when a sudden ringing interrupts your focus. Javier’s eyes travel behind you to his desk and you can see the thoughts forming in his eyes.

“Javier, I swear to God if you answer that phone.”

But ultimately you’re powerless against him as he gives you his innocent look again. “It could be important,” He teases as he brushes his lips over your collarbone, leaning forward to reach for the phone.

You bite down on your bottom lip, the shift of his body causing a shudder to rip through you and it takes everything in you not to make a sound. He brings the phone to his ear and greets the caller, the time moving painfully slowly like you’re stuck in an alternate reality that lags behind. You can’t believe this is actually happening right now.

“Murphy! Good to hear from you.” He sounds so god damn jovial and it’s obvious that he’s enjoying this. You bury your head in the crook of his neck, dragging your teeth against his skin that you have access to. He clears his throat and you grin at the sign of his struggle.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Why don’t you meet me here at my office when you get in town? We can do lunch.”

You have no idea how he can speak so calmly, completely disregarding the fact that he’s balls deep into you. Your sex is pulsating against him; you can’t wait much longer, but he’s still talking to the unknowing individual on the other end. You card your fingers through his hair, grabbing onto a section towards the back and giving it a tug.

When he says goodbye against the receiver, a wave of relief immediately washes over you and he throws it on the desk not bothering to hang it up. The dial tone can be heard blaring softly as he pulls you tighter against him abruptly, readjusting his grip.

“That’s a good girl,” He says before his voice descends into a growl. “Now fuck me.”

With his permission granted you don’t hold back as you move your hips, holding onto Javier’s shoulders while you move up and down on his cock. He buries his head in your cleavage, tracing lines with his tongue and his nose exhales hot air against the trails of his saliva, the cooling effect of it bringing your nipples to full attention. He palms your breasts through the cotton of your dress, squeezing and tugging at you until your head rolls back in ecstasy.

You both make quiet little groans letting each other know that you’re close to the finish. He slips his hand back to your sensitive bud and places just the right amount of pressure as you come down hard on his hips. It hits a particularly sweet spot and he can see from the color of your bottom lip, flush with the pressure of your teeth that you’re almost there.

“Come on baby,” He says. Only a few more strokes are needed as he holds on tightly to the small of your back. He gives himself over to the pleasure that’s rippling through him, moving his hips with yours and straining to hit that spot he knows will do it for you. Your thighs squeeze around his hips, your toes curling against the leather of the chair while the wave of pleasure circulates through your body. You smile as you come down, riding his last few thrusts through the aftershock.

You let out a huff as he pulls out of you, the feeling of emptiness catching you off guard. You remain in his lap, enjoying the closeness. He tucks your hair behind your ear gently, running his eyes over your face like he’s committing this moment to memory. It’s one of the ways you know he cares about you, the way he can communicate through his eyes the words he doesn’t say. You stay like this for a few minutes, allowing the excitement to settle.

“I have to get to the library,” You whisper, your hand running down his chest. He laces his hands with yours, bringing one to his lips for a kiss.

“So dedicated,” He says, releasing you as you get up from his lap, a little wobbly and he steadies you by your hip. You smooth down your dress, making sure everything, save for your underwear, is back in its place while he tucks himself back into his pants.

“I can’t believe it’s really over next week, but I also can’t wait to be done with the whole thing.” You sigh. The silence envelops you as you’re both contemplating what comes next in a grander sense. You don’t know how to bring it up, but the days are hurdling by faster than you’d like towards graduation and you have no idea what that means for you and Javier.

“Do you…” His voice trails off as you grab your bag. “Do you have anything lined up yet?”

You freeze. You hadn’t expected this conversation to come up with him now. You wish this arrangement you have could last forever, but you know better than that. You know that it couldn’t work, and he doesn’t want that anyway. Why would he want to keep this going? Once you graduate, you’re no longer his teaching assistant and the thing that drew him to you will be gone.

“I have a few interviews in DC in the next couple weeks, so I’m waiting to see how those pan out,” You inform him. He nods, getting up from the chair and walking around to close the distance between you. He leans against the desk and his eyes fall to his hands, clasped in his lap.

“I’m sure you’ll get one,” He says quietly. You pause, taking in the sight of him. You know there’s more going on in that head of his, words he won’t say out loud. He’s not great with expressing his emotions, that much you’ve picked up on easily in the few months you’ve known him. And you’re not going to force it out of him. You’d given up on that when he wouldn’t tell you anything more about Colombia, but it still hurts when you can see it on his face and he won’t let you in.

“Thanks,” You say dejectedly. You’re waiting, just waiting to see if he musters the courage, but you’re not sure if you know what you want to hear either. His eyes travel up to yours and there’s a sadness emanating from them, almost a pout.

“I’m going to miss this office,” You offer, trying to lighten the mood. It’s not what you really want to say, but you’re tiptoeing around it. It’s never gotten quite this real before, you’ve never acknowledged what this is or how you may or may not feel about each other.

“And Austin?” He asks timidly. “Would you stay here if you were offered a job?”

“You know I love Austin,” You murmur, staring into his deep brown eyes that rival a puppy with the way he’s looking at you right now. A lump forms in your throat when you realize you’re talking about more than just the city. You haven’t allowed yourself to entertain the idea, but it doesn’t scare you like you thought it would now that you’re confronted with it. “I didn’t think there was an opportunity here for me, given what I want to do. I need to be in DC.”

His lips purse as he tilts his head up at you, his expression serious. “You’re right. There really isn’t anything for you in Austin anymore.”

That’s exactly what you were afraid of.

\---

You look into the crowd of antsy undergrads impatiently awaiting the start of their American Government exam. Today is the last day you’ll spend together collectively. They’re all exhausted, you can tell by the looks in their eyes. You are too, but there’s a weight lifted off your shoulder in that your paper is done. Now all that’s left for you is your thesis defense, and you’re as ready as you’ll ever be for that.

You glance up at the clock, noting that there’s only a few minutes until the exam is set to begin and you frown as Javier is nowhere in sight. You try to suppress the nerves that seep into your bloodstream, accelerating your heart rate.

You haven’t seen Javi since your last exchange in his office. He canceled his office hours with a note taped to the door, the light remaining off and the handle locked. You’re painfully aware that if you don’t see him today, you might never see him again. Of course, you know where he lives, but there’s an unnerving twisting in the pit of your stomach at the thought that he doesn’t want to see you.

As you try to fold those thoughts and shove them back into the corners of your mind, Zach walks in the door holding a stack of packets and begins doling them out between the group of you so you can hand them out to the class. He gives you the last stack and you take the pile slowly, a distressed look on your face.

“Where’s Professor Peña?” You ask. He furrows his brow in response.

“He didn’t tell you?” He pauses for your confirmation, shocked that he knows something about the professor that you don’t. You shake your head, your face becoming hot with the embarrassment of your ignorance to the situation and with the anger of him holding it over you. “He can’t make it today. We’re proctoring alone and turning the grades into his mailbox.”

All you can do is nod as you attempt to hide how blindsided you feel. You don’t hear a single word Zach instructs of the class prior to the exam. You don’t remember walking up the stairs of the hall and distributing the test packets down the rows but suddenly you’ve finished your task and are sitting at the front of the hall, staring at the crowd but unable to focus.

Your mind runs through all of the scenarios that could explain why he’s missing, regardless of if they’re sound or not. Your first thought is that it’s confirmation that he’s avoiding you, avoiding saying goodbye. The anger bubbles up inside you and you ball up your fists, your fingernails digging into the skin of your palms. You knew you weren’t going to be with him forever, but the man at least owed you the amicable parting of ways you were capable of.

This certainly feels like the nail in the coffin that you two are over without a word.

You ruminate on this for what must be half an hour, growing more enraged by the minute. All of your respect for Javier is teetering on the edge of oblivion. You feel so stupid, unsure how you fooled yourself into believing that this man was different, but it’s obvious. His charisma, your attraction to him, the sweet accomplishment of attaining what was unattainable - it blinded you, and you fell for it.

The anger finally subsides into a sickening feeling that spreads throughout your whole body in pain. Maybe he really didn’t care about you at all, and he’s making it known that he’ll be fine if he never speaks to you again. And it hurts, it’s so painful that you’re not sure you’ll be able to hold it together much longer. You can’t stop fidgeting in your seat, wanting to be anywhere but this godforsaken lecture hall.

Finally, all of your recitation students have handed their exams to you and you’re free to leave. You gather the packets and clip them together, sliding them into your bag. When you look up, you catch Jessie’s glance. Her eyebrows are knit together in worry.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” She whispers. Deep down you know that she knows, and the absence of Javier is not unnoticed as a weird choice by the professor.

You smile at her but it comes out more like a grimace. “I’m fine, thanks. See you at the banquet?”

Jessie nods, the concern on her face remaining as your response is less than convincing. You’d been looking forward to the dinner tonight, a celebration of all the hard work you and your cohorts have put in, but now you want nothing to do with it.

Once you’re out of the hall, you rush up the stairs with the tiniest bit of hope that maybe you’re just coming to conclusions that simply aren’t there. With as much composure as you can scrape together, you approach the closed door of his office. As far as you can tell, the lights aren’t on but you knock anyway. You listen intensely to the silence that follows, and you lean your forehead against the door in anguish. You try knocking once more, just for good measure but are met with the foreboding silence again.

“You looking for Javier?” A voice chimes in from off to the side. You look over and realize that you’ve missed an entire person sitting on the bench outside of Javi’s office. It’s a tall blonde man who looks vaguely familiar to you. You study his big blue eyes and moustache and it dawns on you that this man is a friend of Javier’s. You’ve seen him in photos at his house.

“Um, yeah,” You say bashfully, turning to lean against the door while facing the stranger.

“You’ll have to get in line. It looks like he’s stood us both up today,” The man says with an annoyed affection in his tone. You shuffle over to the bench and sit next to him, wishing you knew anything about him but all in Javier’s circle remain nameless to you. Another reminder that you don’t really know him.

“You’re a friend of his?” You ask, letting your curiosity get the best of you. The man runs a hand through his straight hair and scoffs.

“You could call it that. I’m Steve,” He says, offering his hand to you. You shake it, wincing a bit as he’s got one hell of a grip. Your eyes widen when you realize you have heard that name. This is his partner from Colombia, the one who helped take down Escobar. He’s the one from the cat story that you love.

You give him your name before telling him how nice it is to meet him, explaining that you’re Javi’s teaching assistant and have heard stories about him. His eyebrows raise and he chuckles. “Anything bad he’s said about me, I assure you it’s a load of shit.”

You laugh, beginning to understand how these two worked together.

“He’s been AWOL from campus,” You say, the sadness in your voice betraying you. Your eyes meet Steve’s and he looks at you with raised eyebrows, and then recognition relaxes his features.

“I know that look,” He says. You stare at him quizzically, waiting for an explanation. You’re ready for anything about this day to make sense.

“You and Javi?” He asks. The blush rises on your cheeks and you have to give this man credit. Somehow he’s put two and two together in just a few minutes of talking to you. You wonder if this is something Javier does all the time, and you’re starting to feel even more foolish.

“You need me to beat him up for you?” He asks, a smile playing at his lips and you can’t help but give him a quiet laugh, appreciative that he’s trying to cheer you up.

“We were pretty casual. I just didn’t expect him to up and leave instead of ending it. I thought…” Your voice cracks and you take a moment to settle down. “I thought we were a little more than that.”

“Look, Javier is… Javier,” He says and your shoulders deflate. You don’t love where this is going. “If there’s one thing I know about him in these types of situations, it’s that he has a tendency to shut people out when he’s trying to protect them. The disappearing act seems to be a go-to move. He usually doesn’t do it to me, and I traveled all this way just to visit him, so you must have done a number on him.”

There’s a balance between sincerity and jest in his voice that comforts you even though you’ve just met him. He clearly cares a great deal about Javier and his concern for you seems to be genuine.

“You know where I can find him? Maybe I can knock some sense into him. Not making any promises, but I can be persuasive.” He bumps his shoulder with yours gently. You reach into your bag and pull out a notebook, ripping off a piece of paper and jotting down Javier’s address.

“You’re more likely to find him there.” You hand him the paper.

He nods and gives you a thanks. You shake your head. “No, thank you for being so open with me. You didn’t have to do that.”

Steve smiles at you and the warmth spreads to his bright blue eyes. You’re overwhelmed with the urge to hug him, but instead you thank him again and shake his hand again before excusing yourself to head home. You have a dinner to get ready for that you won’t let Javier ruin.

\---

You trail your fork through the pool of salad dressing leftover on your plate. You hate that you don’t have much of an appetite, a mixture of nerves stewing in your stomach as you stare at the table distractedly. The dean of public affairs is addressing you all, giving a rousing speech on you being the future of this great nation.

This should be a happy moment for you, but all of the uncertainty is holding you back from enjoying anything. Your thesis defense is tomorrow, and try as you might you can’t be bothered to pay attention to anything beyond how terrified you are. You’re not even thinking about Javier anymore, the dwindling hours until you have to speak in front of a room of colleagues and superiors on all of your hard work overtaking your brain. You’re not terrible at public speaking, it comes with the territory of your chosen career, but something about this presentation in particular chips away at you more. It’s so near and dear to you, and your confidence has taken a hit considering the events from earlier today.

Before you know it, the dean is done speaking and the program for tonight is essentially over. Everyone’s still mingling, and you allow your eyes to rake through the sea of tables. You almost miss it, but there’s no mistaking it when you look again to make sure. He’s here.

Javier is sitting at a table near the back of the room, talking to another professor though he doesn’t look too enthralled in the conversation. He’s in a navy suit and light blue dress shirt with a deep red tie. Your entire body feels cold as the anger and confusion courses through you. You don’t realize you’re staring daggers at him until his eyes meet yours and you straighten your back, sitting a little higher in your chair.

The thought of him being here and ignoring you is too much, and you’re thankful you didn’t notice until the event is done. You quietly excuse yourself from the table and the others barely notice, too caught up in their own discussions. You walk as fast as your heels will take you out of the banquet hall, maneuvering around the tables and groups of people with your eyes trained on the door. Your breathing becomes labored as the door feels like it’s moving farther away from you, until finally you stumble into the hallway and search for your nearest exit, your vision blurring.

You start for what you think is the direction of the stairs when you hear your name called out, reverberating through the staircase. You don’t stop, overwhelmed by the need to be outside of the building but you hate that just the sound of Javier’s voice begins to unravel you. He finally catches up to you at the base of the stairs and you curse your choice in footwear. He says your name again, catching your wrist in his hand.

“Not here,” You seethe. You may be done as his teaching assistant, but you have a thesis defense you won’t risk jeopardizing by arguing with him in front of other students and professors. He follows you out of the door and down the steps though you’re not sure where to go from here. You take off your heels and start for the campus mall, the sidewalk still warm on your feet from the heat of the day. You finally reach a bench underneath a tree tucked further into campus, a tall lamp post glowing beside it. You sit and he mirrors your action, both of you sighing.

“So you were just going to ignore me, pretend nothing ever happened?”

He doesn’t say anything as he stares at the ground.

“You’re an asshole,” You mutter.

He takes out his pack of cigarettes, sliding one out as he says, “You’re not the first to tell me that.”

You reach over and pull a cig out for yourself. Though you’re not a smoker, you can really use it right about now. He eyes you with worry, but reaches over to light it while it hangs from your mouth all the same.

He lights his own and takes a drag, watching the smoke billow in the air. “It got real for me that you’re leaving, and I don’t want that to happen. But what kind of person am I to ask you to stay? You said it yourself. You need to be in DC. I thought it would hurt less to cut it off than to have to say goodbye.”

You’re still stuck on his admission. He doesn’t want you to leave. You feel your heart tear in two right then and there, but it was hanging together by a loose thread anyway.

“Maybe I won’t get a job out there, you never know,” You mumble.

He looks at you and smirks. “Honey, if they don’t hire you then I’ll call them myself and tell them where to shove it. But I won’t need to.”

You meet his gaze and the emotions are written as clear as day on your face. The words are there, and he knows exactly how you feel because it’s how he feels too. He reaches over and laces his fingers with yours, giving your hand a squeeze.

“I think we both know it wouldn’t work,” He says softly.

You take your hand away from him and stand up from the bench, facing him. “Cut the shit Javi, you either want to be with me or you don’t. You can’t run from your emotions forever. Fuck, I don’t have time for this. My thesis defense is tomorrow. I have to go.”

You take a few steps before pausing. “Listen, I don’t care what you do, but just know that this is the easy way out.”

He doesn’t chase you this time, watching as you disappear into the darkness of campus

\---

Breathe in. Breathe out. You repeat the actions over and over, but they aren’t helping. Your hands shake in your lap as you wait. It’s almost time, you can tell by the concluding remarks the student is making. Just a question and answer section is left before you’re up next.

The sun shines into the room through the floor to ceiling windows, a section of the union they’ve reserved for this occasion. The group is gathered together in business attire despite the arid temperatures outside and you can hear the air conditioning struggling through the vents to keep the enormity of the room cool. The fabric of your pantsuit itches and tugs at your skin as you struggle to get comfortable.

You didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, the events of the past week haunting you as you tossed and turned, and it only makes the tremble of your appendages worse. You’re sure that somehow you’ve made the transition to a zombie overnight as you struggle to focus. You might as well have gone on a bender with how much of a trainwreck you feel today. You take another slow, deep breath as the student currently presenting asks for any last questions and the room is quiet in response. It’s your turn.

The shaking worsens as you stand up from the chair, black spots dotting your peripheral vision. You concentrate on setting up your visual aids, breathing in rhythm. Once that’s done, you have nothing left to do but face the crowd and it’s entirely more terrifying than you thought it’d be. A sea of faces stare back at you expectantly and every thought you’ve ever had is locked away in a file cabinet your mind just threw over a cliff.

You sputter out your introduction, stumbling over the words but getting them out all the same. As you start on your defense, you continue to trip over what you’ve practiced as your thoughts tangle together. You grow more frustrated with yourself and it causes you to lose your train of thought. Pausing, you look out into the crowd again and this time, your eyes catch on a familiar shade of deep brown towards the back.

Javier smiles at you and nods, a warmth spreading to his eyes as he tells you to keep going with his expression. You feel yourself settle down as you hold his gaze and you realize that he’s here to support you. There’s a resolve about him, the look in his eyes so different than what you saw the night before. It’s like coming home. You can’t stop the smile that tugs on your lips as your shoulders relax. You take another deep breath, but this time it actually helps.

You get back into your defense and it goes without a hitch. You deliver it even better than you practiced, despite your rocky start. You answer every question with ease and confidence, and the nodding from the professors in the front gives you a pretty good idea of how you did. Once you retreat from the front, you grab Javier’s hand and pull him out into the corridor. You don’t care who sees anymore.

His smile is big and his eyes crinkle a bit. “You did so good, Y/N.”

You blush. “Thank you. Thanks for coming. I didn’t think you would.”

“Of course,” He says quietly. He takes your hands in his. “I’ve been thinking about what you said - about the easy way out - and you’re right. I take the easy way out when possible, but you know when I stopped doing it every time?”

He pauses, and the way he’s looking at you makes your heart flutter in your chest. “When I met you. You walked into my life and you didn’t let me. You make me better than that. Y/N, I don’t want to take the easy way out anymore.”

You grin, engulfing him in a hug. All you’ve thought about this last week was holding him close. You bury your nose in his chest, breathing in his scent that you’ve missed. You look up at him and he lowers his head, meeting your lips for a kiss that takes your breath away. He’s yours now, no pretense about it. He pulls away and looks at you, searching your eyes.

“There’s some things I want to tell you; stories I owe you,” He says softly. He’s ready now. He wasn’t before, but the thought of losing you hurts more than the thought of being honest. He knows that you’ll be there for him no matter what he says.

“Wanna talk about it over tacos? I know this great place not too far from here.” Your smile is smug. He shakes his head and laughs, holding your hand tightly as you both head for the restaurant that started it all, ready to begin a new chapter together.


	4. counting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HI! turns out I'm not done with these two. more to come. it's always posted on tumblr first. @californiakoenig  
> love y'all! hope you enjoy.

The buzz of the office is a calming white noise of phones ringing, papers shuffling, swivel chairs rolling and voices carrying throughout the floor. You stare distractedly at your desk with your face resting in your hand as you collect your thoughts following your latest meeting. It’s that time of day when you hit the wall, especially struggling to find the will to climb over today. Every little thing seems to strike a nerve just the right way. Or is it the wrong way? You make a concerted effort to unclench your jaw and take a deep breath, centering yourself. You can make it through the day. But a pick-me-up would definitely help.

Your eyes travel to the calendar pinned to the soft fabric material of the cubicle wall with a plain, silver thumbtack. A haphazard circle drawn in thick, red permanent marker highlights just a few days from now and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You’ve been looking forward to the day for so long now, but it still doesn’t feel real. It will remain just a mark on the calendar until it’s actually here, until you witness it with your own two eyes. But the thought alone lifts your mood away from the office politics and unfulfilling busy work piled high on your desk that has put a damper on your current outlook.

Your agenda lays on your desk, already open to the current week reminding you that your schedule is meeting-free for the rest of the day. Eyeing the phone, your hand hovers over the handset for a moment but you scold yourself for even thinking of it. Pushing back in your cushy office chair, the wheels roll just far enough for your eyes to catch your boss in his office shrugging on his suit jacket and closing up his briefcase so he can make his son’s soccer tryouts. You glance at the stack of files that you need to make a dent in before leaving and groan quietly, rolling back up to your desk and resting your elbows on the surface as you rub your temples in anguish.

Coffee. Coffee will work. Springing from the desk, you smooth down your blouse and dress pants before walking purposefully in the direction of the community kitchen where a pot of coffee is always ready and waiting for the government employees burning the candle at both ends. The strong smell wafts into your nostrils as you approach the restaurant-grade contraption, grabbing a mug emblazoned with your organization’s logo from the shelf above.

“Need a hand, rook?” The voice is grating like low-grit sandpaper and you nearly drop the ceramic as your work nemesis suddenly appears out of thin air. You catch the mug after it bobbles once in your hands and steady it on the counter, grimacing a fake smile at your coworker while he eyes you in amusement.

“I’m fine, John, thanks,” You utter, watching him lean his back against the counter next to you. He stays eerily quiet as you pour the steaming, dark brown liquid into the mug but his eyes nearly burn holes into your chest. A heat rises on your skin as his very much unwanted gaze runs the length of your body while you pull the creamer out of the fridge just to the left of the coffeemaker. You clear your throat pointedly, hoping he’ll snap out of it and go about his business, but that would be too easy.

“Any chance you’d like to go out for drinks on Friday night or are you still hung up on long-distance boy?” He asks, clearly trying to play it cool. He remains persistent though you’ve turned down all of his offers since you’d made the mistake of entertaining him in your first week on the team. You had jumped at the chance to get to know your coworker better, excited to learn from his two years of experience on the force, but he had very different intentions for your relationship. The familiar pangs of sickness in your stomach swim back to the surface, reminding you how foolish you felt when he made his move.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, John. I have a boyfriend,” You’d told him gently that night, sat across from him at a trendy, dimly lit restaurant downtown. You’d hoped to let him down easily. It was awkward enough to refuse him, but you had to see him at work every day. You didn’t want to make the situation worse.

“Oh really? Why are you here with me then?” He retorted, grinning like the cheshire cat; like he’d caught you trying to play it cool, taking it as a challenge. You watched him stroke his moustache as you gathered the nerve to respond in kind, though you weren’t feeling jovial in the least. You could hear your heartbeat drumming through your ear canals as the blood rushed to your head.

“He’s in Austin for now, but he’s moving up here soon,” You answered, though you owed him no explanation. “I was hoping to get to know you better as my coworker, since you know the ropes so well.”

You wouldn’t easily forget the smug smile on his face as he took a sip from his old fashioned, still eyeing you like a conquest. You shifted uncomfortably against the leather cushioned chair, the buzz of conversation reverberating off the walls at a dizzying volume.

“Trying the long distance thing, huh? That can get lonely. If you ever find yourself with an itch you just can’t scratch on your own…” He trailed. The blood in your veins turned to ice, freezing your body into a state of further incredulity. You would always regret not walking out on the man then and there, but unfortunate sacrifices had to be made for the sake of your job. You could only hope that one day, he’d get what he deserved.

Ever since that night, John made every effort to plant seeds of doubt that your relationship would last despite knowing nothing about you. He didn’t know that in a huge gesture of confidence in your future together, your boyfriend had signed a contract with Georgetown, sold his house and bought the perfect one for the both of you here in the DMV area. Didn’t know that you’d been sending him daily emails describing in vivid detail all the animals at the humane society you thought would be a good fit for the two of you. Didn’t know that by God, somehow you’d convinced the grumpy, stoic man to agree to look together once he got there.

John has no fucking idea the man that Javier Peña is.

You grip the coffee mug tightly, your knuckles aching with the pressure as you finally look at him, his face twisted into a perfectly innocent pout. You’d been waiting for your boyfriend to move here to serve John his just deserts, but you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“You know, as much as I’d love to, he’s actually moving here on Friday so between the unpacking and the fucking we’re about to do, we won’t be leaving our house all weekend. Maybe some other time?”

You smile sweetly as he coughs on his own spit in shock. Satisfied, you move to make your exit but unfortunately you’re not quick enough to get the last word.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, sweetheart,” He calls after you, his voice a sneer. The heat rises on your skin as you return to your cubicle as calmly as you can manage, setting the mug down forcefully and flopping into the chair. Your hands are shaking from adrenaline and dripping with spilled coffee but they immediately reach for the phone and punch in the sequence of numbers you’ve memorized. You’re in need of an entirely different pick-me-up than caffeine.

It rings a couple times before the line clicks through. “Peña.”

You smile at his signature greeting, almost all of your anger floating away at just the sound of his voice. “Hi, Professor.”

He hums in amusement. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss L/N?”

You pause for a brief moment, shutting your eyes tightly in protest of what you’re about to say, but you decide that you want him to know. He deserves to know how he plagues your thoughts, how much much he’s missed every hour you’re away from him.

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” You murmur into the receiver, hoping it doesn’t sound too needy.

“What’s wrong, honey?” He asks, the concern apparent in his voice and you practically melt into a puddle right there at your desk. You love that he just knows, that he can see right through your attempt to hide your emotions.

“You know my friend John,” You supply and you hear him sigh into the phone.

“If that dipshit doesn’t leave you alone,” He seethes, his voice a low growl. Suddenly the sparks ignite deep inside you, kicking your heart rate higher. You find yourself closing your eyes to amplify the sound of his baritone, smiling to yourself in light of his outburst of emotion. “They really need to put an end to that antiquated fuckery. I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”

You bite your lip to suppress the tiniest urge to cry, feeling a rush of warmth from how supportive Javier always is. You both know that there isn’t much you can do about the situation. It’s just an unfortunate part of the industry you’ve chosen, something you were well prepared for though it doesn’t make it suck any less.

“He still thinks you’re not gonna move here,” You breathe out, feeling silly for wanting the confirmation but letting it out anyway. It’s been a hell of a day, enough to trick you into John’s bullshit in a moment of weakness.

Javier scoffs, the noise reverberating through your eardrum. “The aching in my lower back from packing my shit up all week says otherwise.”

You laugh. “You can’t guilt anyone into helping you, old man? Offer some extra credit to your favorite students? I can think of at least a few from American Gov who’d be more than willing.”

“Very funny,” He retorts, though his irritated tone suggests he’s not amused. You giggle more at his response, flashing back to going over his end-of-semester reviews filled with comments rating his appearance more than his teaching ability. You certainly couldn’t blame the students for that; you were in total agreement, though you happened to think his talent for teaching was equal to his devastatingly handsome looks.

Javier doesn’t entertain your comments like this too often. While he acknowledges he once had quite the roster of interested women in his rotation, he no longer has any desire to look elsewhere and never at his students. Not when he has you, and he never wants you to doubt that. He made a promise to himself that when he finally decided to settle down, he’d be all in and so that he was. All yours.

“I can’t wait to see you,” You say softly, in seriousness. Your heart jumps at the thought of your reunion, imagining how it will feel when you can finally wrap your arms around him and breathe in that woodsy, spicy scent of his cologne; feel the crisp, starch of his dress shirt and the burn of his neck stubble against your cheek.

“Me too, my love,” His voice is gentle. “How late are you going to stay tonight?”

One of the many benefits to dating this man is that he knows all that goes into your job, including pushing paperwork while you’re the newbie on the squad. You shuffle through the pile of manila folders, peeking inside one as if it has the answer.

“Hopefully not too late, but I want to get as much done as I can before you get here.”

“I’ll be there before you know it,” He offers and you smile wistfully, drawing little hearts and stars into the margins of your agenda distractedly.

His voice is husky and dripping with suggestion when he speaks next. “You got a storage closet or something like that nearby?”

You let out a chuckle but your pen stops immediately as you register his words. Leaning back in your chair, you look around once more taking a tally of who is left in the office. Your heartbeat speeds up when you realize that most everyone has gone home.

“Javier,” You protest, though it falls flat. You really want to entertain him though you’re not sure you can get away with it. You bite down on your lip as you think of all the times Javier has gotten you to push the envelope - in offices and public parks. A few times in his car, though he always says it’ll be the last time when his muscles ache the next day. Your favorite in recent memory is the condo showing in DC. You can still taste his fingers in your mouth keeping you quiet, the realtor separated from you by just one wall. You have to admit, you love the adrenaline rush as much as he does.

“Come on,” His tone is playful. “It’s practically a rite of passage.”

A shiver rises on your skin as his voice soothes you into a state of serenity you didn’t think possible while sitting in your cube. The relaxation fades away quickly as your eyes catch another rookie from another specialization walking the floor and you’re prompted to sit up straight in your chair.

“Professor Peña? Let me check the conference room schedule. I’m sure it’s free at this time of day and much more appropriate for this conversation.”

Javi chuckles at the abrupt switch in tone as you exude professionalism for a topic that is anything but. “Of course, Miss L/N.”

Standing up to see over your cubicle divider, the lights in the conference room are off and the door is open, easily answering the question of availability. You then wrack your brain on how to transfer the call through, cursing yourself for not listening more intently when the office aide explained the process. Your hands fumble over the buttons, your heart skipping a beat when you hear it ring through in the distance. You can’t help but sprint into the conference room, pushing the door closed behind you and grappling with the light switch awkwardly. The momentum carries you into the chair at the head of the table and you reach for the handset swiftly.

“Javier?” You ask breathlessly. He says your name back to you matter-of-factly, and the smile spreads across your face easily. His amusement with you only adds to your excitement, the unbridled fun you’re having exactly the distraction you needed from the exhaustion of the day.

“Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice. I have a few thoughts about the case you may be interested in.” He feigns seriousness.

Leaning back in the chair slightly, you tangle your feet together and squeeze your thighs in anticipation. “I’m all ears, Professor. You’re the expert.”

“In your pleasure? You bet your ass I am.”

“Is that an option? Can I bet my ass?” You retort playfully. Javier groans and the receiver picks up the rustling of his clothes.

“If I were there, I’d spank you for that.” His voice is lower, huskier. “Who does that ass belong to, baby?”

Your temperature has risen significantly and you paw at your chest, loosening the blouse’s grip on your neckline. Shutting your eyes softly, you imagine his big, warm hands running down the length of your back and settling in the curve of your bottom, squeezing and kneading the flesh through the fabric of your dress pants. “It’s yours, Javier.”

“That’s right,” He coos. “What do you say we test out the soundproofing on that conference room?”

You giggle. “How do you know it’s soundproof?”

“Expert, remember? The amount of confidential shit that goes on in the room means it’s protected.”

Your eyes wander to the walls, taking note of the extra material protruding that you hadn’t noticed before. Suddenly you feel much more at ease, resting your hand on your thigh and rubbing the length of it idly. “I think you may be right.”

He huffs out a laugh and then pauses. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You detail the outfit to him, running your hands along the fabric in place of his. The last few months of long distance have proven you both to be experts at this. You ask him the same and you’re slightly disappointed to hear he’s in an old t-shirt and shorts, a pang of jealousy for the opportunity to be there with him settling over you. He knows how much you love when he dresses casual. To be honest, you love him in any style of clothing and in any situation. You love him, to the point that you’re consumed by it.

“Are you touching yourself yet, Javi?” You ask, your voice a devilish whisper. “I can’t wait any longer. I want you to think about my hands wrapped around that delicious cock of yours.” You surprise yourself with how quick you are to direct him this time. He usually takes the lead, but today your patience is wearing thin.

Your hand traces the waistband of your pants before slipping underneath, pressing against the mound of your flesh through your underwear. The friction of the cotton against your clit deepens your wetness and your breath catches slightly in your throat. A soft whine of a grunt can be heard through the phone along with the faint sound of stroking from his arm. He mumbles out your name in a string of filth as his pleasure mounts. You leverage the friction from your underwear, stroking yourself through the fabric while you pretend it’s Javier’s arm pressing against your body.

“You feel so fucking good, Javi.” You tell him sweetly. “How hard are you?”

“Very,” He slips out immediately. “Are you wet for me?”

“I’m wet,” You breathe. “My clit is throbbing. I need more.. faster, harder.. I just need more,” You moan out to him while increasing the speed of your fingers, rubbing expert circles on the tender bundle of nerves.

“I want you to put your fingers inside. Count them until you’re full,” He orders, and your skin tingles as you drag your fingers towards your center.

“One,” You call out obediently, arching your back into the chair as you slip your middle finger inside your walls. Your brow furrows as you imagine it’s his finger, though you immediately need more. Adding your index finger, you can feel the juice coating you as you methodically place pressure on your walls.

“Two.”

“Good girl,” He praises. “You’re taking my fingers so well. But I know you can add another.”

With his encouragement, your ring finger slides in and you thrust against your hand in search of relief. The fire is rising throughout your body, the burn of your abs as you strain against yourself causing a whimper to roll past your lips. “Fuck, Javier.”

“Are you still counting, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” You mumble, leveraging the heel of your palm against your clit which is desperate for attention. “That’s three.”

You can almost see him, splayed on the couch in the living room gripping the phone to his ear with one hand while he plays with himself in the other. The curve of his cock filling his hand as he works, the corner of his mouth turned upwards into a smirk.

“I wish I could taste you,” You confess, imagining the drag of his lips across your chest, along your neck, punctuated by a connection with your mouth. You lick your lips in search of stimulation, your mouth falling open as you breathe heavily. The air feels cool against your lips and another shiver rips through your squirming body.

“I wish I could see you,” He replies. “I bet you look divine, angel. Fucking your hand for me. Can you go faster? Let me hear you.”

His voice is so smooth and warm, dripping into your ears and quickly igniting your arousal further. You moan out his name, thrusting and pumping harder into yourself. You can feel the release building within you, dancing at the corners of your eyes as you incline towards your peak.

“I’m going to cum,” You huff. “I’m close.”

The breathiness of your voice sends him reeling further in the direction of his edge. “Don’t hold back, sweet girl.”

Anything grounding you to reality fades away as the pleasure ripples through your body, finally unleashing the orgasm you’ve built up to spread in sweltering waves. You make a point to let Javier know, allowing yourself to express your pleasure in a subconscious language. You sigh, the smile on your face spreading wider while the rest of your body stills in the chair. Your pulse is a loud drum dancing in your veins, and when you can finally focus again you notice his heavy breathing through the phone, your fingers relaxing your previously crushing grip on the device.

“Fuck,” He mutters and you bite your lower lip, nodding in agreement though he of course can’t see.

“Finish packing and get your ass here, Javier,” You tell him, returning the phone to its cradle and sitting up straight, trying to figure out how you go back to work after that.

Three long days until you’re reunited, and you’re definitely counting.


End file.
